Tales From Seal Beach: What Do You Know?
by Xazz
Summary: He'd been given the News twenty-two different times in his life, and gone to twenty-three different schools and each time it was different, yet the same. But it was always The Bad News. -oneshot-


I hope you weren't expecting to be happy today (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

Takes place after Pampering and before the second half of Bitterness and Sweet.

* * *

Altair was always wary when both his parents were home at the same time. While them being home at the same time didn't guarantee an upheaval there hadn't been a time in his life where his dad hadn't come home from tour and announced a move when his mom hadn't been home. The track record was too good for him to be wigged out and jumpy when they were both home. His friends had noticed, his parents did not. Though his friends saw him every day, his parents saw him for a few weeks or months ever few months to a year.

The only part was that they came during baseball season, and William loved baseball. Really that was the reason he'd started playing baseball in the fifth grade. They'd been living in Virginia then and there was a little league team on the base made up of other military brats, that was where Altair had learned to play baseball. In seventh grade he learned to catch, because his dad's favorite player was a catcher.

He'd wanted an excuse for his dad to be around during the spring, to watch him play baseball. Some years it worked too. This year it seemed to work. Altair was a senior, on the varsity team, and one of the best catchers in lower Orange County. He wanted to be the best, because he wanted his dad to be proud of him. He just wanted them to see him, and be in the stands, cheering for him and his team. Not that he didn't just love baseball, but he knew why he did it beyond just loving it.

It had been all right the first month or so when William was on leave- Altair never called him dad, or Will, or Bill, even when he tried to insist Altair at least call him dad, always William- because Kaley wasn't home and he could relax. It was just him, William, and his little brother and they could go to baseball games and Altair didn't have to worry. Even though getting Desmond to warm up to his own father was a bit of a challenge as William was rather distant in general and rarely smiled, though when he did it was warm and inviting.

Then Kaley had come home and there had been a noticeable change in Altair's personality for everyone who knew him. His parents didn't know him. Malik asked after him first, making sure everything was okay, he brushed it off, saying that it was just that his parents were home. Parents, plural. That maybe happened once a year, if he was lucky. By the end of the first week of William and Kaley both being home the others had asked to make sure he was okay, fuck even _Dean_ had asked if he was okay and Dean didn't care about anyone beyond his brother and his boyfriend it seemed like.

Getting Desmond to warm up to Kaley was harder. He didn't really like either of them and stuck to Altair like glue when he was home. They were strangers and while his little brother was plenty friendly most of the time he wasn't used to it and he was still young enough that large changes in routine were usually met with resistance. He was used to Malik, but Malik wasn't there all day like Kaley and William were.

It was why when William came into his room one day, a week after Kaley had come back, Desmond was with him. He was working on an English paper and having, predictably, trouble with it, Desmond was playing with some of his dinosaur figurines on the floor. He was about to call Mike and bitch at him about needing help and why was English so hard because Mike loved to complain too and they could talk and complain and it was great. It was a good, healthy, venting system.

He looked up at a knock on the door, "Yeah?" he called and William stuck his head in.

"There you are," William said, looking at his son, Altair didn't consider himself William's son anymore. Not really. "You're mom's looking for you Des, why don't you go see what she wants," he smiled.

Desmond just stared at him and then, not surprising Altair in the slightest, he looked at Altair. "Go on," he said nodding towards the door in such a way. Desmond made a bit of a face and then pushed himself up off the ground and left the room, William moved out of the way for him to pass. Altair looked back at his paper and pretended like he was typing when the door didn't close and he felt William looking at him. After a few moments he stopped, "Was there something else?" he asked as he looked up.

William slid into his room and closed the door behind him. A shot of dread slid down Altair's spine. There were two possibilities here and neither were exactly the most wonderful things.

One was William wanted to talk about Malik, who Altair had basically kept a secret from both of them up till just recently, not ready to actually introduce his boyfriend of a year to his parents but that had been blown out of the water when Kaley had accidentally walked in on them in Altair's bed, fully clothed mind you, they were just making out, a few days ago. That had been weird and awkward. If it was about Malik he was afraid of getting the 'it's okay that your gay' talk and the Talk just in general, as Altair always appeared weirdly asexual to his parents who he was convinced had thought he was a virgin up to that point. Which was an entirely awkward thought.

The other possibility was that William was about to give him bad news. And not just any bad news, but The Bad News. He'd been given the News twenty-two different times in his life, and gone to twenty-three different schools (the twenty-third was from going from an elementary school to a new middle school in the same year) and each time it was different, yet the same. Different because he didn't always know it was coming, and the same because it always ripped through him like a damn twister and destroyed everything about his life he'd tried to make wherever they'd been.

"Mind if I sit?" William asked.

"Yeah, sure," Altair moved over a bit on his bed and William sat next to him with a sigh that men in their forties had. Long, drawn out and with too much responsibility. Funny. Altair had that exact same sigh.

Altair slowly closed his laptop, "What did you want to talk about?" he asked, knowing it was coming. That _something_ was coming, either option uncomfortable and one potentially painful and heart breaking.

William pressed the tip of his tongue to the top row of his teeth and pressed the tips of his fingers between his knees, head bobbing a little as if mentally preparing himself for whatever he was about to say. Altair eyed him warily really hoping for the Talk. God he would love the Talk right now (as mortifying as it would be), as it was better then the alternative. Then, he said, "I'm being reassigned to Germany."

Altair looked away, "God damnit," he said softly, staring at the wall in front of him.

"I know you like it here Altair, but Germany's a nice country."

"Yeah, and I speak German," he said sarcastically,

"They speak English there-

"That isn't the point!" he snapped. "You promised. You _promised_," his voice cracked on the end as he stared at William. "I have four months till I graduate, and I get to do it in some foreign country across the fucking planet."

"You know if I could I'd tell them no Altair but-

"Then why don't you?" a life of just taking it was catching up with him. "I have something here. I have a _life_. I have friends and the most-" his voice cracked so bad he had to stop and clear his throat, "the most amazing boyfriend. Desmond likes it here," though Desmond liked it anywhere. "Why are you doing this?"

"It isn't my fault son, you know that. I'm obligated to go where the Navy needs me."

"Fuck that," he said. "Fuck that. Fuck this. Fuck you."

"Don't use that language with me young man," William warned him.

"Or _what_? You'll ground me?" he glared. It was all catching up with him now. All the shit he'd gone through because of these people. A life of moving, a life of being shepherded around and pushed into moving when he didn't want to. A life of always being an after thought and a of just being forgotten most of the time it felt like. "Here's a news flash _dad_, but you can't."

"I'm still your father Altair," and now William was standing. Altair stood as well.

"Fuck you," he said again. "Fuck you, and the Navy, and this stupid ass country," the rage roiled under his skin and he breathed it in, basking in it. He was never angry, he always kept it back, because he knew if he was angry it'd consume him. Because he was always angry. He was always _so fucking ANGRY_ and if he really let himself feel it he'd just fly off the handle and be done with it. Instead he always kept it back, kept it safe and contained and never let anyone know how pissed off he was all the time. Malik saw it sometimes, brief glimpses now and then when they were alone and always calmed him down with touches and kisses. Dean sometimes saw it too, cause Dean and him would fight, especially when Altair was hanging on by a thread, having trouble holding back the tide. While they never fought for keeps the hits always hurt and would leave bruises but it would help and Altair could pull it back. Keep it in check and not let it wash over him.

"Altair watch your tone."

"Why?"

"Because you're not thinking straight son," William said.

"I'm thinking just fine," he spat.

"I know you're upset, but this is how it is."

"You're a fucking Vice Admiral, why can't you just tell them no?" he demanded.

"Because that isn't how it works Altair," but there was something in his eyes, something he wasn't saying, something he wasn't telling Altair. He was _lying_ and Altair's vision seemed to gray at the edges, some colors becoming bright to his eyes to the point they almost hurt. Then he took a breathe and the world returned to normal. "I know this is hard. We're leaving in three weeks."

"No."

"That's the end of it Altair."

"No!" he yelled.

"Yes."

And then he said the words he'd always wanted to say and no parent ever wanted to hear, well, more like he screamed them, "I fucking hate you!"

William was stunned for half a second, "Now listen here boy," he said sharply, "I'm the one who puts a roof over your head, feeds you, and puts the clothes on your back. Have a little respect. Don't you _ever_ say that to me again!"

"Respect? Respect!" Altair stepped up in front of him. "I haven't respected you since I was fourteen fucking years old and I wanted your approval for everything," he had one volume now, slightly below yelling. His vision seemed to gray out again, colors becoming sharper for an instant as he exhaled but returning to normal on the inhale. "How about _you_ respect _me _instead since I've been doing you and Kaley a favor since before I'd even hit puberty and took care of _your_ _son_! How about you show _me_ respect for putting up with both of your bull shit my entire fucking life and never once complaining about it, _ever!_" he was seething and he was trembling.

"A favor? That is your brother-

"HE'S YOUR SON!" he screamed. "He's your son and you don't even know he's allergic to fucking milk you stupid fucking asshole!"

"Altai-

"I'm not done yet!" he yelled right over him. "You're an awful father. An _awful_ father and have never been there for me _or_ Desmond, and he's actually related to you."

"Altair you be quiet right now," William tried to be stern,

"No!" he said fiercely, glaring, his vision kept graying out when he exhaled, his breathing heavy, it was like his entire body was going through the motion of being caught in a hot rage. "No I'm not going to be quiet any more. Because I'm pissed. I have a good thing here and now you're going to take it away _again_ and drag me to _fucking Germany_. I have every right to be furious! I hate you. I hate you so much I can't even begin to tell you."

"You don't mean that."

"Don't I? Why should I like you? Tell me. Why?" he demanded.

"I'm your father!"

Altair actually laughed, "Good one," he said. "I don't have one of those."

And then William actually slapped him, which silenced him, mainly from surprise, and all the colors washed back into his vision. "I know you're upset, Altair," he said gravely, "But that doesn't mean it gives you permission to mouth off to me, or to use foul language-

Altair punched him, so hard he actually fell down. "Fuck you," he spat at William and then grabbed his laptop, his backpack and walked out of the room. He stalked down the hallway to the living room and kitchen and turned, sensing eyes. Kaley and Desmond were staring at him. Kaley had her hands on Desmond's shoulders who looked scared. Altair softened a little, "I love you Desmond," he said and then walked out of the door.

"Altair!" Desmond cried after him.

"Desmond, honey, no," he heard Kaley cry.

Altair swallowed, ignored them both, and opened his car door. "Altair," he looked up. It was William, standing outside now. He was silently pleased, William was going to have an amazing bruise from that. "Don't you dare get into that car," he threatened.

"Fuck you," he said again.

"Listen to your father boy," he snapped.

"My father is Moroccan, and he's dead. Your name is just on some adoption papers," he said hatefully and slid into his car, slammed the door and didn't wait to hear if William yelled anything at him. He just put his car into a hard reverse and backed out of the driveway and with a squeal of tires shifted rapidly into drive and peeled away from the house.

—

He didn't realize where he was until he was suddenly parked. He didn't remember driving, he didn't remember how he got here at all. Where 'here' was was the parking-lot at the Seal Beach pier and he was breathing heavily, still angry, still consumed. Then, as if he wasn't even in control of his own body, he got out of the car, leaving his bag and computer in there and went out onto the beach, locking it behind him.

He went to their usual spot and could see some of his friends out on the water, bobbing on the waves. Rich's huge, obnoxious, pink beach umbrella was like a beacon and he was drawn to it. Dean and Castiel were sitting in the shade of the umbrella, their surf boards belly up on the sand, chilling. He walked right up to them.

"Hey Al," Dean said, looking up at him as he came near.

"Hello Altair," Castiel echoed.

"Hi," he said, voice mechanical and dry. "Can I talk to you for a second Dean?"

"Yeah, sure," and Dean stood. They moved a few paces away.

Altair turned to him, "Hit me," he said and it still felt like his body was moving without his control. He was outside of his own body, like he was watching someone else experience what he was doing.

"What?" Dean asked, confused.

"Hit me."

"Al, you're messed up," Dean said, frowned.

"God damnit you stupid hick, I'm asking you to hit me!" he yelled, anger breathed out from his skin and suddenly he was rooted in his body again, fully in control, the anger familiar and weirdly calming. He was used to anger. What he'd been feeling before was nothing. Just… nothing. A great yawning emptiness inside him that hadn't been hate, or passion, or anything.

Dean glared at him, "No."

So, Altair hit him instead, landing a punch on Dean's face. He knew Dean wouldn't let it go and it was what he wanted. Dean punched him back with a pissed off yell. They fought and quickly it turned into a grappling match on the sand as they pinned each other and they used fists and elbows and knees and any other hard part of their body to connect with the other's soft part. Dean landed a lot of blows and Altair felt them and they, like the anger, felt good, like the strain was getting beat out of him. He landed blows himself and he knew that when they were done they'd both be black and blue tomorrow, and green and purple over the next few days or week.

Distantly he could hear someone yelling but he didn't focus on it. All he was focusing on was the fight, and the rage, and the release of it all. The strain starting to leave his body. All he could hear was the sound of his own breathing and heart beat, the rush of air when Dean punched him, and the sound of their bodies connecting. All he could see was fists and elbows and sand as they kicked it up, throwing and punching each other around. His attention was only on Dean.

Then hands were grabbing him and Dean and pulling them apart. "Fucking hell Al," Dean said when they were both finally away from each other. "What the hell?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" and his head turned a little, Malik was there and his heart shriveled into a prune.

"Dean what did you do?" Sam demanded.

"Nothing! He just came up looking for a friggin fight!"

"What?" and Sam looked at Altair now. Everyone was looking to him now, he didn't say anything. His throat had closed up around any words. They were speaking again, all of them, but he wasn't hearing them. Not that he wasn't listening, he just wasn't hearing them, because he couldn't focus on their voices. But he heard Sam scolding them, Cas was telling Dean off even as he seemed worried over his well being. He thought he heard Malik rebuke him.

"Shit," Malik said, gently running his fingers over his face, distracting him, grounding him in a way. Enough to hear but not to push him back into himself. "You're really beat up, babe," he said softly. "What got into you?"

Altair disengaged himself from Malik, and stood on his own, he was floating outside his body again. The familiar rage was gone again and all there was was the yawning emptiness, and a sudden longing stuffed into his chest cavity half heartedly like a teddy bear only half stuffed. "I'm moving," he said, voice distant and hollow, finally able to speak. "I'm moving to fucking Germany in three weeks," because as pissed as he was, he was moving. He had to go, he was eighteen, but he was still a dependent and the thought of leaving Desmond, the one constant in his entire fucking life, was more painful then leaving Seal Beach and his friends, and Malik. Leaving California would hurt, but he'd heal. Losing Desmond would send him spiraling into a dark hole that he'd never fully recover from. His entire life and world revolved around that kid and if he was just _gone_…

"What?" Malik asked, staring.

"I'm moving to Germany in three weeks," he said, softer now, only to Malik. He spoke without feeling or inflection, having trouble feeling at all right now. "Fuck," and then he turned around, unable to look at any of them. "I'm sorry," he said, loudly, though he didn't know who he was apologizing to.

Then he ran.

—

He camped out the first night in Long Beach, away from the easily familiar. He skipped school the next day too and just sat on the beach, his bag next to him. He did a lot of thinking and a lot of not thinking. He mostly did the not thinking thing though, because thinking hurt and made it hard to breathe. Thinking though made him angry and when he was angry, really, _really_, angry his vision grayed at the edges.

It gave him something to focus on strangely. He could direct his thoughts to it. By the end of the first day he could do the strange thing his eyes did, a bit anyway, without even being really that pissed off. The world would gray out around the edges of his sight, but the center would stay colored like someone had photo manipulated his vision. Where the world turned gray some colors because brighter, or some things took on new colors entirely. It was weird and it distracted him. It was a good distraction because it let him not think about his parents, or moving, or Desmond or _Malik_.

Fuck he'd just left Malik with a bomb like that. Malik and his friends. He didn't think about it though. If he thought about it he'd just _break_ and he was barely holding it together.

He slept in his car in the parking-lot that night, all his stuff in the trunk, the windows open to catch the breeze coming off the ocean.

He skipped the next day of school too and didn't feel guilty about it at all. He walked the second day and finally ate something. He hadn't eaten since lunch the day before yesterday. He didn't really know where he walked, he just walked, all day, and practiced the thing with his eyes. It was still weird, but the circle of color he got when he did it was smaller by the second day.

He'd noticed that, while doing it, that most people were gray. But some weren't. Some looked blue, and a few were red. He didn't know what it meant. He didn't really care. He just thought it was weird. Fuck the entire 'graying out' was weird! It probably should have freaked him out more then it did, but it didn't. He was still sort of just floating.

He slept in the parking-lot again. His car's back seat wasn't very comfortable, but it was better then a bench.

The second night he was woken by a light being flashed in his eyes. He groaned and they flicked open, once, twice, three times, stayed open. He squinted into the light and put his hand over his eyes. "Who's there?" he groaned.

"L.B.P.D," shit, it was the police. Right? He sat up and looked out the back window, there was cruiser sitting behind him, but the lights weren't on. He wasn't really doing anything illegal though as over-night parking was allowed.

"Is there something wrong officer?" he asked, voice slurred from sleep and blinked into his flashlight. Fuck what time was it?

"I'm going to need to see your license and registration," he said. He wasn't thinking clearly but was with it enough to squirm into the front seat and open his glove box, which was locked, and pulled out his wallet and his registration. He took out his driver's license and handed the card and the piece of paper to the officer. The officer nodded and went back to his cruiser.

Altair groaned and slid down in his seat and rubbed his face. He turned on his car but didn't turn the engine over. He wanted to see the time since he didn't have his phone, he'd left it at home. Fuck it was three am. No wonder he felt like he was going to die. He hated waking up, he especially hated being woken up by a cop. Fuck his life right now. Seriously.

The cop came back and gave him his papers back, he put them away as the officer said, "Son, I'm ganna have to ask you to step out of the car."

"What?" he squinted at him.

"This car was reported stolen two days ago."

"My name's on the registration," he said, "How can I steal my own car?"

"It was reported stolen by your father."

"Shit," and he slumped down further in his seat.

"Now please, step out of the car, I'm going to take you home."

Altair looked at him miserably, "Please don't," he said.

"C'mon," he said, using his flashlight to wave him out of his car.

Grumbling a curse he rolled his windows up before opening his door. "I need to get my bag," he said and the officer let him get his stuff from the trunk.

"You got a kid?" he was asked when the officer saw the car seat he'd also put in the trunk so he could sleep in the back seat.

"No," he said and slammed the trunk closed. Funny how that tasted like a lie.

—

When the police cruiser pulled up to the curb the outside light was on, and so was a light inside. He got out, so did the officer and he was walked to the front door. The door opened before they even got there.

"Altair!" Kaley called and took a few quick steps out of the house to hug him tightly. She was fully dressed but she didn't have circles under her eyes from staying up all night worrying. He didn't hug her back. "Thank you so much officer," she said once she let him go.

"Just doing what I can ma'am," the cop said and Altair didn't hate him for bringing him home. He was just doing his job. "Have a nice night," and then he left.

William was standing in the doorway and Altair shrugged Kaley off him though she had the air of worry seeping from her skin. He glared at William. "Get inside," William said shortly, voice hard. Altair walked into the house, brushing past him like he was a piece of furniture. "You going to explain yourself young man?" he demanded once the door was closed. Altair said nothing, he just glared. "Well? You missed two days of school and no one could get in contact with you? Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I'll go to Germany. But I still hate you," he growled in a low tone.

"Altair honey," Kaley tried to touch him.

"Don't," he threw his hands up and took a step back. "Just don't. Touch me," he said wondering if he sounded sickened by it. He didn't want either of them to touch him. Kaley frowned sadly at him. She wanted to comfort him. Oh that was a laugh! Now she wanted to comfort him! Now, when he was angry and an open nerve. Now she wanted to be there for him. Not when he'd needed her. Not when he wanted her to be there for him. Never for any of the times he was sick, or the times he was depressed, or the times he laid in bed and cried himself to sleep because he was in an empty house, or the times he'd hurt himself playing baseball or when he'd almost broken his arm at school. Now, when she could be hurt, she wanted to comfort him.

"Go to your room, we'll talk about this more in the morning," William said firmly, a growl more then anything, scowling and angry.

Altair glared back at him and then turned on a heel and walked to his room. He closed the door quietly, since Desmond was sleeping still. He heard them talking outside for a few minutes before going to their own room room. Altair laid on his bed, not thinking, not sleeping, not even taken off any of his clothes except his shoes. He looked when the door slowly swung open about to tell William or Kaley to go fuck off.

He softened instantly when he saw it was Desmond, peering at him from around the door. "Hey buddy," he said, allowing himself to smile. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I missed you," he said in a rough voice. This was the one who hadn't been able to sleep with him gone and had cried when he didn't come home. He wondered how his parents had gotten him to calm down enough these past few days. He had a feeling they had let Lisa and the women at the preschool deal with it.

Altair beckoned to him and Desmond slipped inside his room, closing the door quietly behind him. He was in his pajamas, though they didn't match. Something told him his Kaley hadn't been able to find a matching set. He had his big stuffed pigeon with him and he went over to Altair's bed and Altair picked him up and put him on it. Desmond crawled into his lap and pressed against his chest.

"Where did you go?" Desmond asked softly.

"To think," Altair said softly in return, pushing all the anger back, and stroked his brother's hair.

"Were you mad at me? Is that why you left?" Desmond asked and sounded like he was five seconds from starting to cry.

"What? No. Why would you think that?" he asked, petting his hair. "No I wasn't mad at you," and he pressed his lips to the top of his head. "I was angry at _them_," the anger flashed through him quickly before settling again into something manageable.

"Okay. I don't like it when you're angry at me."

"Me too squirt," and he hugged his brother tightly. "Now why don't you go to sleep. Okay?"

"Will you be here in the morning?" he asked, and looked up at Altair with his big brown eyes.

Altair smiled, "Yeah," he said, gently stroking his brother's chin. "I'll be here in the morning," he promised. "No go to sleep," Desmond looked down again, snuggling up against him and closed his eyes. He felt Desmond go limp against him when he finally went to sleep. Altair stayed awake, he didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to close his eyes. He stayed away, gently stroking Desmond's back, determined not to fall asleep.

Outside it was dark, then he seemed to blink, and midmorning light was pouring in through the blinds of his window. He was late for school. He laid Desmond gently on the bed, gathered up his stuff for school, and left without making any noise, or taking a shower, or waking his parents. He didn't have a car. So he just walked. He got to school around lunch time and didn't see or speak to anyone unless he couldn't help it.

William picked him up after school without comment. It was a long, uncomfortable ride home. Altair knew it was going to be uncomfortable for a long time.

-fin-


End file.
